


Sarah vs The New Life

by smolassassinchildx (smolassassinchild)



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolassassinchild/pseuds/smolassassinchildx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set (vaguely) between Couch Lock and Aisle of Terror, Sarah considers all the aspects of her new life, friends, and family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarah vs The New Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shimmeryshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimmeryshine/gifts).



The plan was simple. Get in the door, get to the bedroom. It would take a fool to mess it up. Unfortunately, you happen to be living with a pretty big fool. Chuck pushes the door open, revealing Morgan sitting on the couch, littered with Cheetos, in nothing but his boxers, with an X-box controller in his hand. Apparently, this is the Morgan Grimes method of coping with disappointment, you think.

“Hey! I wasn’t expecting you guys back so soon,” he says, jumping up and sending errant cheese puffs flying, and completely oblivious to the fact that Chuck’s hand is still up your shirt.

“Yeah,” Chuck stammers. You catch his gaze briefly; rushing adrenaline has clearly robbed him of proper speech. “Yeah, Buddy, I can see that.”

You move, hoping to cut him off. “Don’t let us disturb you.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Morgan says. “How did it go?”

 _How did it go?_ Is Morgan so upset about missing this mission that he needs to make small talk about it? You cast a glance down the hall to the bedroom door. In all your years of work as a spy, never before has your target seemed so far away. “Oh, you know, same old, same old.”

“Arms dealer, shoot out, good old intersect saving the day,” Chuck splutters, tapping his temple with an awkward laugh.

You latch onto Chuck’s arm, pulling him towards the hallway. “You know, it wasn’t all that interesting.”

“You’ve heard one spy story, you’ve heard them all.” Chuck laughs.

Morgan’s face falls. “Yeah, but guys—”

“Morgan, put some pants on!” Chuck shouts.

The second Morgan looks down, both of you race for the door. In the distance, you hear him murmur something about _have fun_ and _gonna get some chow._

No sooner has the bedroom door swung shut than Chuck has you pressed up against the wall, hoisting your leg higher on his hip as he kisses you hard. You close your eyes, threading your fingers through his hair as you think about the man in the tux in front of you and how different he is from the awkward Chuck, dancing around and gyrating in his tightie-whities… and yet, how he hasn’t changed at all.

The thought makes you grin.

Chuck pulls back, and though his eyes are dark with lust, he is watching you with a warm smile on his face. “What?” he asks, amusement creeping into his voice as he kisses you again.

“Nothing,” you say, threading your arms around his neck.

“Well, whatever that nothing is, keep thinking about it,” he laughs. “You look good wearing that grin.”

“And you’d look better with your pants off,” you tease. He doesn’t seem to mind, just kisses you again and rocks his hips hard into yours.

When he’s smiling against your lips, it occurs to you that laughter and sex have never really gone together before, not before Chuck at least. Sex was pleasure, or business, a means to an end if it got that far, or a release from the stress and the constant danger. This is new to you, and you think it might just be the best thing that has ever happened.

Then his hands slide up beneath your skirt and you can’t really think about anything else anymore.

Chuck falls asleep afterwards; the excitement of it all must have been too much for him. Sprawled on his bed, hair falling in his eyes, Chuck is unlike any other man you’ve been with. Probably because all the others have been spies. He wouldn’t want to hear you say it, but it’s true. Chuck is not a spy in the typical sense of the word. He does the job, does it well, but he’s somewhere in between, neither here nor there, and you love him for it.

While the bed looks inviting, your mind is still too wound up to sleep. You pull on your robe and slip out into the living room. It looks like Morgan has followed through on his word to skip out for a while. The apartment is still and silent, and under normal circumstances it would make you uneasy, leave you on guard. You know that this house is no bunker or safehouse, but it feels more secure than anything. Still, as a precaution, you check every hidden weapon in the living room.

A knock at the door startles you, but it turns out only to be Ellie—hand resting on the small swell of her stomach and a wide-eyed gaze as she asks where Chuck has been. She blushes, embarrassed, when she admits to calling him repeatedly earlier in the day, unable to reach him.

“I’m sorry,” she says shaking her head. “I know Chuck has quit the spy game, but the fact that it was going on so long, right under my nose… I guess it just has me on edge.”

You nod, Chuck’s secret is safe with you. It always has been. “Completely understandable.”

“I just hate this.” Ellie’s voice has a hint of hysteria. “First, Chuck and Dad and… I don’t even know. My entire life has been hijacked by the CIA and I just want everything to go back to normal.”

Ellie deflates, sighs, looks back up. “Sorry,” she says. You can’t blame her. In some ways, you envy her. “I don’t mean to… I know it’s your job, but…” Her voice is heavy with caring too much for someone. “I worry.”

You smile softly. “Chuck’s lucky to have a sister like you.”

Ellie leans against the door. “I worry about you, too, you know.”

You didn’t see that one coming. Sure, you’ve been here for years, but... “About me?”

“Of course,” Ellie says, almost laughing and you see the family resemblance more keenly than ever. “I don’t know if you noticed, but we tend to pick up family members just as much as we lose them. I don’t care if my brother ever wises up enough to put a ring on your finger, but you are definitely a member of the Bartowski family.”

A member of the Bartowski family.

Ellie Bartowski has given you what is possibly the greatest gift you have ever received, and she probably doesn’t know it. You realize you have been standing, blocking the doorway out of nothing but habit. You step aside and smile.

“You know, Morgan went out for food and knowing him he’s probably coming back with the left side of the menu from the Chinese place. You’d be doing us a huge favor if you came over and took some of it off our hands.”

Ellie nods the nod of someone who has been in this situation far too many times. “That sounds wonderful, actually,” she says. “I’ll just go get Devon. Be back in a few.”

As you watch her cross the courtyard, back towards her home, you can see Morgan approach with two bags of takeout, both looking like they are about to burst. You leave the door open for him, slipping back into the bedroom and rousing Chuck from his sleep with a kiss.

“Watch out for the raspberries,” he mutters, tossing onto his side. His eyes flutter open and fix on you as you slip off your robe and grab a pair of jeans. “What’s going on?”

“Dinner time,” you say. “Morgan bought Chinese, and Ellie and Devon are on their way over. Should probably call Casey and tell him to come over.”

Chuck sits up, rubbing a sleepy hand through his hair. “The whole gang, huh?” He smiles.

“Yup. Everyone.”

You smile and he kisses you and you feel like a part of the family.

“I should probably brush my teeth,” he says, heading for the door.

You shrug. “Good idea.” You pull a shirt from the closet, pulling it over your head. “Know what else would be a good idea?”

He looks back from the doorway. “What?”

You grin, casting a pointed glance downward. “Pants.”


End file.
